One Friday each month, Bruce Gleason opens up the backyard of his Villa Park home to a group of people he most identifies with – atheists.

Gleason, 59, founded Backyard Skeptics, right there in his home, eight years ago. Fewer than 10 people attended that initial gathering. But, membership grew to 600 within two months and now stands at 1,200 with five chapters.

Gleason doesn’t believe in God, a higher power or “just any kind of woo-woo,” he said. By that, he means a range of beliefs from homeopathy to the existence of the soul.

“But I do believe that there are atheists in Orange County, no matter how super-religious or conservative it might get here,” he said. “And atheism is here to stay.”

Orange County, a conservative bastion in otherwise liberal Southern California, is simply mirroring the latest national trends when it comes to the lack of faith in a God or a higher power, said Danielle Muscato, spokesman for New Jersey-based American Atheists, one of the largest and oldest advocacy groups in the country.

“Atheism is growing by leaps and bounds in all 50 states,” he said. “We’ve seen studies that show 34 percent of millennials are non-believers as is 20 percent of the total population.”

While only 1 percent of Americans admitted to being atheists in 2005, that number rose to 5 percent in 2012 and only seems to be increasing with each year, he said.

“This is happening not just here in the U.S., but worldwide because of the Internet and more people learning about science,” Muscato said. “More people are rejecting religions that exclude parts of the population or religions that set up one group against another because as human beings, we have it in our collective DNA to work with one another and accomplish things together.”

But in Orange County – home to churches, megachurches, synagogues and Buddhist temples – many agree: It’s easier be to be gay than to be atheist.

“It’s hard being an atheist in Orange County because it is so conservative,” said Fullerton resident Liz Bujan, who is a regular at Gleason’s backyard gatherings. On a recent Friday night, she mingled with like-minded friends in Gleason’s covered patio, warmed by heaters, surrounded by fragrant orange trees, atheist-themed music playing in the background.

Bujan said she experienced discrimination first-hand when an employer let her go one week after she refused to pray with him. Another company where she worked offered Bible study for employees, she said.

Gleason’s backyard is one of Bujan’s few safe havens. There, she can openly talk about the discussion she attended about evolution or a program she watched about atheism, without the fear of backlash or judgment, she said.

There are others in the group who remain closeted. One of them works as a security guard for a large Orange County church and did not wish to disclose his name for fear of retaliation.

“If people at work come to know I’m an atheist, I would get fired for sure,” he said.

When he started the job about a decade ago, he was a Christian, he said. At the time, he even encouraged his family members to convert. Five years later, his views began to change because, he said, he “actually read the Bible.”

“I started looking at the contradictions in the Bible and a lot of it didn’t make sense to me,” he said. “So, I deconverted.”

He hasn’t mustered the courage to tell his family because his grandmother would be devastated, he said.

“But it doesn’t bother me that I work for a church, it’s a job,” he said. “I just don’t get into deep conversations at work.”

Others, such as Christy Jacobs, are more outspoken.

“I’ve been out of the closet since I was 13,” she said. “My parents are theists, but I started questioning my family’s beliefs when I was a teenager.”

Jacobs said she sought out Backyard Skeptics because she feels at home with the group.

“It’s human nature to seek out like-minded people,” she said. “And we are such a religion-centric country. It’s hard to find that sense of community if you’re not part of a church or religious organization.”

But,it is worse in other places, said Margaret Downey, who spends half a year in Newport Beach and the other half in Pennsylvania. She also founded the Anti-Discrimination Support Network, which reports and helps deal with discrimination against atheists. She even fought to remove the Ten Commandments from the courthouse building in Chester County, Pa.

“I’ve learned that there is a lot of hate out there,” she said. “I got death threats, hate emails. I’m not against religion. I just believe in freedom of choice.”

Gleason became Orange County’s most famous and most-outed atheist in 2011 when his group joined hands with the National Coalition of Reason to put up a series of billboards in Orange County, the first of those in Westminster, the first Orange County city to put “In God We Trust” in council chambers.

“Don’t believe in God? You’re not alone,” read the billboard on Beach Boulevard and 19th Street. The billboards got cheekier as time went by. “Atheists make better lovers – after all, no one is watching,” another billboard in Huntington Beach read.

Since the billboard campaign, Gleason has hosted Christians versus atheists debates throughout Orange County. David Penrose, a member of Huntington Beach Community Church, has participated in every one of those debates.

“As a Christian and as a community member, I think it’s a great thing to have such an ongoing dialogue,” he said. “I don’t think our approach is to try and convince anyone that our way is right. It’s a place where we can present facts and evidence and let people decide for themselves.”

Penrose said he doesn’t believe atheism is destructive.

“It’s OK for people to question faith and I don’t have a problem with it,” he said. “The Bible tells us that each of us have an individual relationship with God. Who am I to interfere with another person’s relationship? As Christians, we have an opportunity to show them that we’re not judgmental. I feel blessed to be a part of this dialogue.”

Deepa Bharath covers religion for The Orange County Register and the Southern California Newspaper Group. Her work is focused on how religion, race and ethnicity shape our understanding of what it is to be American and how religion in particular helps influence public policies, laws and a region's culture. Deepa also writes about race, cultures and social justice issues. She has covered a number of other beats ranging from city government to breaking news for the Register since May 2006. She has received fellowships from the International Women's Media Foundation and the International Center for Journalists to report stories about reconciliation, counter-extremism and peace-building efforts around the world. When she is not working, she loves listening to Indian classical music and traveling with her husband and son.

Join the Conversation

We invite you to use our commenting platform to engage in insightful conversations about issues in our community. Although we do not pre-screen comments, we reserve the right at all times to remove any information or materials that are unlawful, threatening, abusive, libelous, defamatory, obscene, vulgar, pornographic, profane, indecent or otherwise objectionable to us, and to disclose any information necessary to satisfy the law, regulation, or government request. We might permanently block any user who abuses these conditions.

If you see comments that you find offensive, please use the “Flag as Inappropriate” feature by hovering over the right side of the post, and pulling down on the arrow that appears. Or, contact our editors by emailing moderator@scng.com.